


Come a Little Closer

by alwayseven



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayseven/pseuds/alwayseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Watching Niall dressed in half a tux, buttons undone at his throat, Harry feels like he's seeing Niall for the first time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come a Little Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you a hundred times over to lazy_daze for the Britpick and for not making fun of my Americanisms, and to fiddleyoumust for such a thorough, brilliant beta.
> 
> Inspired by [these pictures](http://p.twimg.com/Ay3ua34CQAAyCE5.jpg:large).

Harry loves a good wedding. Apart from the obvious joy and celebration of one of life's happiest occasions, it's always a good time and a good excuse to get pissed off his head.

Harry's a good half way there, with Niall following close behind.

It's a good wedding, Harry has to say. Good music, good people, better than good booze. Rochelle and Marvin look like two people who couldn't be more in love and that makes Harry feel like he's a part of something great, witnessing the first few hours of their marriage.

Harry's sat at one of the deserted tables trying to catch his breath. He’s flushed, his shirt stuck to him with sweat. He reaches for the abandoned glass of champagne, neither knowing nor caring who it belonged to. The bubbles feel nice on his tongue, sweet and and a little fizzy.

The music is some dancy thing with a heavy, thumping bass and the wedding guests, those that still remain, are into it, jumping and swaying enthusiastically as if they're at a music fest and not a black tie celebrity wedding.

Harry kicks his feet up onto the chair beside him and finishes the remaining champagne.

Harry looks for Niall, eyes scanning the throng of bodies before settling on him. He's managed to lose his tie at some point and a few of the buttons on his shirt have come undone. He's pink cheeked and shining under a thin layer of sweat, blond tipped hair a mess like someone's had their fingers in it.

Harry's a bit out of his head on too much complimentary alcohol but his brain stumbles at that last thought, making his own skin go pleasantly flushed. He uses the champagne humming in his blood as an excuse to continue watching Niall and the way he's moving, dancing in a small group of women, his arm around someone's waist and his hips moving in a way that makes Harry uncomfortable now that he's noticed.

The thing about Niall is that his attractiveness totally sneaks up on a person. Harry's always thought Niall was pleasant enough to look at. Cute, like an eager puppy with an awkward, crooked grin and not a care in the world. But now, watching Niall dressed in half a tux, buttons undone at his throat, Harry feels like he's seeing Niall for the first time. Maybe he is, in a way. Of all of them, Niall's the one who's changed the most in the last year. Harry wasn’t paying much attention then, not in the whirlwind they’ve been caught in. He’s paying attention now. It’s not just the physical changes that have caught Harry off guard. Niall’s taller, broader in the shoulders and back, his hips tight and narrow and he’s flaunting his newly sprouted chest hair like a badge of honor. It’s the confident way he works the crowd when they’re on stage, the thousands of people caught up in the sparkle in his eyes and the pure joy that comes across even under millions of lights. 

Harry reaches across the table for the mostly full bottle of red wine someone's left behind and tips it into his glass. Probably he should stop now, he's had more than enough. But his skin has gone weirdly hot and there's this familiar prickle low and dark in his stomach. He tips the glass back, drinking too much too fast. 

The smart thing to do here would be to get up and go find someone to dance with, someone who isn't Niall. He should not be sitting here drinking and watching the way Niall's shirt clings to his shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist or how he's suddenly filling out his trousers in a way Harry's never bothered to notice before. He wishes he wasn't noticing now. He’d like to go back to five minutes ago, or perhaps an hour ago before he started drinking, anything to un-notice the fact that Niall is looking like Harry's idea of a good time.

Harry acknowledges fully to himself and to anyone he knows well enough to call friend that he's not so much into the fairer sex these days. In truth, he hasn't been all that into women for the better part of a year, which makes the tabloids all the more hilarious given that he gets up to no good as often as they seem to think, just not with the people they think. It's not finding Niall attractive that's a problem, not because he's a bloke, but because, fuck, he's _Niall_. He doesn't want to go there. He doesn't want the hassle and embarrassment and pain of attraction to someone when he can't do anything about it. He went down that road once before and it took longer than he cared to admit to heal those wounds. 

Harry downs his glass of wine and gets unsteadily to his feet, the wine in his blood rushing to his head. Harry pushes his way through the crowd, his feet propelling him towards Niall now that the voice telling him to stop has gone faint from fresh alcohol. Harry sidles up to Niall, a giddy, wine soaked grin pulling at his mouth. 

Niall's own smile widens like he's genuinely chuffed to see Harry and that just makes everything spinning through Harry's hazy brain worse.

"Came to dance with you," Harry tells him. It’s low and private, meant only for Niall, but Harry hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like an invitation. Niall’s an overheated, flushed mess. Harry has never wanted anything like he wants Niall in this moment. Niall makes a space for Harry in the crush of people, inviting Harry to share his body heat. It's a terrible idea. Harry did not need to know that Niall's cologne smells really good when mixed with sweat. He didn't need to know that the flush on Niall's cheeks has spread down his throat to disappear beneath the open vee of his shirt. And he _really_ didn't need to know how Niall's hand feels on his hip, burning him through his clothes, digging in like he’s afraid of letting go.

The crazy techno music dissolves into something a tad slower, still upbeat but this time around with a sexy, thudding bass that crawls up Harry's spine and settles in his blood, in his belly, in his bones. 

They shouldn't be dancing like this, close enough that Harry can feel the thud of Niall's pulse. There are cameras around - not the paps but smartphones and the wedding photographer. There are other reasons, like the way Harry's body has gone completely rogue and refuses to listen to his brain shouting that this is not supposed to happen. 

Harry's got quite good at ignoring his brain, particularly when it's soaked with really good alcohol. He shuffles closer and moves his hips in counterpoint to the rhythm Niall's working, catching Niall’s gaze in the process. It shocks him into stillness. Niall's eyes, always so blue and bright, are just so much fucking more, glinting and flashing from the lights and the alcohol. Harry can’t make himself look away. It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell Niall how good he looks like this, a little buzzed and out of his head but like he’s never felt this good. There’s still that tiny, faint voice behind the wine soaked haze, telling Harry what is and what isn’t a good idea. 

Harry wants the guests to disappear, the rest of it all to fade away so he can press his cheek to Niall's throat and see if his skin's as warm as it looks, to inhale the scent of him, to feel the noises Niall makes when he's pleased.

Harry takes a stumbling step backward. He's gone hard in his trousers which doesn't seem possible given the amount of alcohol in his blood. He hopes beyond hope that it's the heat of the moment, the excitement of a wedding. He wants to go to bed and wake up tomorrow with the beginnings of a headache and have everything go back to normal, back to Niall just being Niall and not this newfound Niall with hips and shoulders and this flirty kind of joy in the way he moves.

Niall doesn't seem to notice Harry's mild panic. He turns his focus to one of the women he was dancing with before Harry pushed his way over.

"Coffee," Harry yells over the pulse of the music. He's Niall’s lift home tonight and if he's going to get them there in one piece, he really needs a cup or four of strong coffee.

Harry tracks down a server and voices his request. He takes the cup gratefully and goes out through the double doors of the ballroom onto the terrace, which is mostly empty. The air is fairly warm still but there's a breeze that feels good on his flushed skin.

Harry reaches for his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he finds Nick's number. He sends him a text that says, "ok if i come over later?" because there's only one person Harry ever goes to when he's having a crisis these days. Harry's not even sure what he wants to tell Nick, but he knows that whatever it is Nick will listen solemnly, offer some serious advice and then in the morning mercilessly take the piss about whatever it is. It's the same every time and Harry's come to rely on that like a lifeline.

Harry finishes his coffee and sets his mug on the ground beside his feet. He closes his eyes, face tilted up towards the darkness, just to feel the breeze on his overheated skin.

He doesn't feel as panicked out here, away from the noise and the crowd. It's easier to breathe, easier to think. He doesn't want what he felt in there. He doesn't want to feel that way about anyone he calls his best mate and he especially doesn't want to have those sorts of feelings about anyone he's in a band with. The first time around it didn’t turn out particularly well and Harry's not inclined to try again.

It's frustrating, he thinks, forcing himself to breathe slowly so the anxiety doesn't move in. Frustrating because he always thought Niall was safe. Maybe that was foolish of him, but Niall's just been this constant, reassuring force for Harry when everything around them's been hurtling forward and shifting.

Niall's the one very rarely rattled, the one the rest of them go to when they just want to have a pint and feel normal for a while.

It isn't just that, Harry has to admit. He knows, they all know, that Niall's the one with the purest heart. And though he's never said either way, Harry knows that despite some shagging around, Niall's never been with anyone seriously. 

Harry lets out a breath that feels heavy and tight. “Enough,” he mumbles, taking a few deep breaths. He concentrates on the way the tension tightens his shoulders, imagines it slowly leaking out of him. None of them were equipped to handle what’s been thrown at them in the last year and they’ve all adapted, adopted ways to cope. Harry’s found that what works for him is to focus on the present, a kind of meditation that brings him out of his anxiety. 

He dozes for what feels like a short few minutes and opens his eyes, startled and disoriented when Niall's there, a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

"You alright?" Niall asks, peering down at Harry with a loopy expression on his face.

"Mm, yeah," Harry says blearily, blinking a few times and rolling his neck. "Just had to get a bit of air."

He sits up a little. Niall has his tie and coat in his arms. "Oh, sorry, are you ready to head off?"

Niall shrugs. "If it's good with you. The party's winding down and I'm knackered."

Harry struggles to get to his feet. He's fuzzy with exhaustion but his head feels clearer.

"You okay to drive?" Niall asks, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry’s sleepy, all defenses down, and what he wants more than anything at the moment is to wrap an arm around Niall’s waist and pull him in, the kind of hug that Niall does best when it’s full bodied and wholehearted. 

"Yeah," Harry says, "I'm alright. Should we say goodbye to Marvin and Rochelle?"

Niall shakes his head. “They’ve gone already. Said their goodbyes 'bout half an hour ago."

"Right then, let's go," Harry agrees, following Niall back through the ballroom.

Out in front of the hotel there's a swarm of camera flashes and paparazzi trying to get a scoop. Harry gives his ticket to the valet and they duck out of sight. Harry's not all that interested in getting his photo taken, not when he feels shaky and a little out of himself. He'd like to continue to blame it on the champagne, but that seems unfair given he's mostly sober. He knows better.

"You're sure you're 'right?" Niall asks, bumping against Harry and pressing his cheek to Harry's shoulder. Niall's always been the most physically affectionate of the lot of them but it's ramped up to ten when he's had a few to drink. Right now it's the worst thing for Harry, the last thing he needs is a handsy, smiley Niall pushing his way into Harry's space when Harry's entire world view has been pushed on its ear.

Harry steels himself against the overwhelming reality of Niall. Up close like this, everything about him is so much _more_ , the way he smells, the way he feels against Harry, the sparks of light in his eyes. "Yeah, a bit knackered is all," Harry says. Niall makes a low humming sound of agreement that Harry feels against his skin as it vibrates its way down his spine. He shivers.

Harry's car pulls into the expansive driveway and Harry and Niall duck back out into view of the cameras. Harry shoves a fiver into the valet's hand and scrambles into the car. He watches as Niall gets himself settled, leaning back into the lush leather.

He gets the car in gear and pulls out of the hotel gates into traffic. Saturday night in this part of London is swarmed with cars and it takes longer than it usually would to get to Niall’s flat.

Harry white-knuckles the steering wheel. There's this weird energy sizzling in the air and Harry feels like he can't breathe, every breath caught in his chest. He tries not to but he keeps glancing over at Niall and that just makes it so much worse. Niall's gone pliant and boneless in the seat, slumped into the leather, head back on the head rest and for some reason he hasn't looked away from Harry since they got in the damn car. Niall doesn't so much as look sheepish when Harry looks over and catches the way Niall's just watching him. They don't say anything because Harry can't think of a single thing to say that would make any sense. 

Harry’s relieved when they reach Niall’s building. He pulls into the car park and quietly follows Niall to the lift. 

Harry can't think of a proper excuse but when the lift stops at Niall's level, Harry gets out and walks with him to the door. If Niall finds this at all out of the ordinary, he says nothing. Then again, that's just Niall, always just taking everything as it comes, with nothing more than a shrug and a wide, crooked grin.

"Thanks for the lift," Niall says as he unlocks the door to his flat. Harry's leaning against the wall. When Niall gets the door open, Harry straightens, thinking he's going to say goodnight, mumble something inane about seeing Niall around but it's all out the window when Niall gives him this little, sleepy smile and all Harry wants is to trace it with his lips.

He doesn't have the excuse of being pissed, not anymore, and he knows as soon as daylight comes he'll regret the hell out of it. For now, it's a compulsion he can't reign in. He takes a step forward before his head has caught up with the rest of him and presses his mouth to Niall’s 

Harry's sure there would be a look of utter surprise on Niall's face if Harry had the courage to open his eyes and gauge Niall's reaction. He stubbornly keeps them closed and changes the angle, softening the set of his mouth and brushing his lips against Niall's a little less firmly, something searching in it.

He feels it when Niall relaxes into it, parts his lips as he lets out a sigh and slumps back against the doorframe. Harry follows, tripping forward and bracing himself with a palm flat against the wall. There's a slight height difference between them these days. Harry adjusts for it by hunching his shoulders and nudging one bent knee between Niall's thighs.

He swears he can taste the champagne bubbles on Niall's lips, all tingling and sweet. Niall's started to kiss him back though he's got his hands by his sides like he's not sure what to do with them. Harry takes a chance and deepens the kiss. Niall's surprise shows in the way his mouth falls open and he puts a hand on Harry's hip like he's going along for the ride and just trying to hold on.

Harry loves a good snog but this is making him feel a little like he's coming undone. It unsettles him, kissing Niall like this. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he kissed Niall but he didn't think it would turn into this, heated getting off in the doorway of Niall's flat. Harry is overheated, sweat at the small of his back and there’s a rush of noise in his ears. He pushes his fingers into Niall's hair where it's soft and damp from the heat against the vulnerable nape of his neck. Harry can't help smiling against Niall's lips at the low, shuddering noise he makes when Harry strokes his thumb against Niall's hair line.

Harry wants to tuck the memories away -- the sounds Niall makes when he’s being good and properly kissed, the way his back arches like he’s trying to get as close as physically possible -- just in case one or both of them comes to their senses and this doesn’t happen again.

Harry’s hard in his trousers. He nudges his hips against Niall’s, nothing aggressive or searching in it, he’s not trying to push either of them into anything beyond this, just seeking out something to rub against, help take a little of the pressure off.

Niall takes a startled breath, this sharp inhalation against Harry’s mouth. Harry thinks a little hazily that Niall’s going to be the one to put a stop to this. Harry has no intention of stopping, not now. He’s not trying for more, this is good. He likes the shape of Niall’s mouth against his, the way Niall kisses a little tentatively like he’s testing the waters. Harry likes it all.

But Niall surprises him when he doesn’t pull away. He leans more fully against the doorjamb, tucking his fingers in the belt loop at Harry’s waist and bringing him to settle into him, hips to hips. Niall’s not quite as gone as Harry but there’s no mistaking the half hard shape of Niall’s cock where it’s nudged against Harry’s thigh.

In the end, Harry’s right and it’s Niall who pulls away. He’s breathing hard, eyes gone all wide and glassy, and a flush that’s spread down his throat. He’s damp at his hairline, sweat shining on his skin. Harry wants to get back to it, lean back in and kiss him until Niall’s forgotten his reasons for stopping.

“You should go,” Niall says heavily. Harry’s focused on the rise and fall of Niall’s chest, the rapid pull of air into his lungs. He can see the uncertainty in Niall’s eyes. That’s what shakes him out of this haze of want, the way Niall’s looking at him right now. It’s worse than an ice bath, the chill it sends through him, that he’s potentially fucked up a really great friendship. He has an apology on the tip of his tongue but he can’t force it out, not now, not when it’d be meaningless. It’s the right thing to do, apologize. But he finds he’s not really sorry, not for kissing Niall and not for getting off in Niall’s doorway. He is painfully sorry for putting that look in Niall’s eyes, that uncertainty that is so foreign an expression on Niall’s face that Harry wishes he could take it all back just for that.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry mumbles, feeling the beginnings of dread building in his stomach, that familiar knot that shows itself when he’s made a really bad decision. Niall’s right, Harry needs to leave and put some distance between them, get a night’s sleep and figure out a way to set things right again.

Niall turns to shut the door but he pauses. “Thanks for the lift,” he says quietly, with a sad attempt at a smile. “See you tomorrow at the studio, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “See you then.” He watches Niall disappear in his flat, letting the door shut with a thud behind him.

Harry stands in the corridor which feels overwhelmingly quiet, the stillness unsettling, staring at Niall’s door. He should go to his own flat, get some sleep. He can’t quite make himself do it though, not when being alone in the flat he shares with Louis seems like too much aloneness, given Louis’s all but living with Eleanor these days. Instead he does the thing he always does these days when he doesn’t know what else to do. He goes to Nick.

It’s after two in the morning but showing up at Nick’s at this hour isn’t all that uncommon these days. It’s a ten minute drive to Nick’s and Harry does it automatically, unthinking.

He knocks on Nick’s door and feels immediately better when the door answers and he’s there, blinking at Harry, clearly having just woken up. His eyes are all sleep soft at the corners and his hair’s a right mess. It’s like the best kind of comfort, being greeted like this.

“Shit,” he says, rubbing a palm at his cheek. He’s not surprised to see Harry but they’re not best mates for nothing. Nick knows something’s wrong without having to ask and that’s why Harry came here instead of going the short distance to his. There’s just always been something about Nick that sets Harry at ease, even when the world around him stops making sense.

“You alright?” Nick squints as he lets his eyes adjust to the light, peering at Harry with the kind of scrutiny that always makes Harry feel as though Nick can see right into him.

Harry makes a face that he’s sure is meant to be a smile but it just gets stuck somewhere in his chest. He’s trying, giving it a valiant effort, but he can’t get Niall’s face out of his head. Of all of them, Niall’s always been the most forgiving but Harry can’t shake the feeling that he’s irreversibly screwed things up.

Nick just opens the door wider, letting Harry in. The lights are off and the place is quiet, comforting in its familiarity. “Come on,” Nick says, curling his hand around Harry’s, “I’m knackered and you look a mess.”

Harry lets Nick lead him through the darkened flat to his bedroom. The bed’s dishevled and welcoming.

Nick digs through his wardrobe and tosses Harry an old t-shirt.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles. He shrugs out of his tux, down to his pants, and pulls the shirt over his head. It smells like Nick and Harry resists pressing his face to the worn cotton and inhaling.

Nick is standing by the bed, watching Harry with an increasing look of concern. “You’re going to end up telling me what happened,” Nick says softly, coming to stand toe to toe with Harry. He palms Harry’s hips, fingers curling in the t-shirt to bring Harry closer. “Do you want to tell me now or sleep it off and let me have it in the morning?”

There’s really no reason Harry should feel this low about kissing a mate, but something about that mate being Niall is making Harry feel all kinds of shit. “Dunno,” he says dully, feeling lower about himself than he has done in a long while.

Nick’s lips curve in the shape of something sympathetic. “Right, never mind. Off to bed with you,” he says, taking the decision out of Harry’s hands which Harry is thankful for. “Whatever it is, we’ll sort it in the morning.”

Nick leads him to the bed and pushes him down into the pile of blankets and pillows and climbs in to take the space beside him.

Harry rolls to his side, away from Nick because his throat feels tight and he feels ridiculous for it. It’s the late hour and the relief of having someone like Nick who just ushers him in and looks after him with no questions asked.

“No, none of that now,” Nick mumbles, against Harry’s back, tugging at his shirt and pulling him in against the heat of his body. “I need a cuddle,” he says softly, pressing his sleepy smile to Harry’s neck.

Harry loves Nick for not asking, not pressing for more. He tucks his chin over top of Harry’s head and lets his fingers slide down Harry’s spine.

Nothing else is said after that and Harry listens to the gradual slowing of Nick’s breathing, feels it when he falls asleep. Harry drifts off not long after, lulled by the presence of Nick and the security of knowing that at the very least there’s one person who will always have his back no matter how many poor choices he makes.

* * *

Harry's woken up at Nick's dozens of times in the year or so they've been mates. It takes him a second to remember but it comes to him before he's opened his eyes, the shape of Nick against him, the familiar scent of him and the bed sheets. Harry opens his eyes slowly, just to test the waters, unsure what the morning light will do to his head. It's blessedly dim in the room.

Harry's mouth is awful, and while he's blissfully headache free, he does have a pit in his stomach that seems to want to crawl up and settle in his throat.

Harry's earned this feeling but that knowledge doesn't make it any more bearable or easy to bear. He's got a huge apology to make and a long day of recording in close confines with the subject of his apology ahead of him.

"Morning," Nick says, quietly, nudging his cheek against Harry's shoulder. "Stop thinking so loudly, yeah?" He flops to his back and props a hand beneath his head, watching Harry with sleepy appraisal. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 _Not really_ is the answer on the tip of Harry's tongue but that's the easy way out, and what did he come here for if not to sort it out with Nick who never lets Harry off the hook in the best, most well meaning way.

Harry's playing with the hem of the sheet, picking at a loose thread but he forces himself to meet Nick's eyes. "I might have fucked up quite a lot," he begins quietly, "it's kind of hard to tell so far." He shrugs and tries a smile, all "what are you gonna do" but it's fake and not how he wants this to go.

"Might have? That sounds ambiguous," Nick agrees. "Are you going to make me pry it out of you?”

Harry's mouth twists in a grimace. "I kissed Niall," he says and now that he's said it out loud, it doesn't feel quite as scary as it sounded in his head.

If Nick is surprised, it's to his credit that it doesn't show. "I didn't know you thought of him in that way," he says.

Harry shrugs a little helplessly. "I don't - or, I didn't think I did, but. I don't know, last night he was - he was different. He was a different Niall." It sounds awful out loud.

"Harry," Nick says chidingly, curling his fingers around the nape of Harry's neck and tangling them in Harry's hair. "I've told you this before, several times in fact, Niall hasn't changed, he's just finally catching up to the rest of you."

It's true, they've had this conversation once or twice, Harry mentioning Niall's newfound desire to walk around without a top on or the way he's surrounded by older women these days even more than Harry is, like they've seen something in Niall that the rest of the world hasn't.

"I know," Harry says, "but I just - I was watching him on the dance floor and I just, I felt like I was seeing him for the first time."

Harry leans into Nick's touch, the stroke of his thumb over his skin comforting and reassuring.

"Go on," Nick says, "what happened when you kissed him?"

Harry closes his eyes. Maybe that's the worst part. That he knows what it's like to kiss Niall, really kiss him and have him kiss back. It would have been easier if Niall had just laughed and shoved him away, instead of knocking the breath out of Harry and kissing back, really kissing back like he was just as into it.

Harry tells Nick all this, not all the details but the gist of it.

Harry has to look away then. "I just, I can't do this again, I don't want to do this again."

Nick knows what Harry means but he still prods Harry to say it out loud. "Do what, Harry?"

Harry sighs. "It took forever to get past Louis," Harry mumbles. "I don't want to go back to wanting someone I can't have."

Louis was different, there was a space of a few months where Harry believed he could have what he wanted, that Louis felt the same. That was the worst of it, the hope and the thrill of the what ifs to have it all come crashing down. Harry loves, adores, Eleanor, and he loves how happy Louis is these days, but it was a long few months to get to that place where he didn't feel like his heart was being pulled out of his chest every time Louis so much as smiled all fond and sweet at him.

And it's done its damage on their friendship. They don't spend time together the way they used to and he's never at their flat anymore. Maybe it was inevitable but the thought of going through all of it again, of losing Niall that way makes Harry feel like he's going to hyperventilate.

"Stop, Harry, take a breath," Nick says, tightening his fingers in Harry's hair, an anchor for Harry to focus on. "Niall's not Louis." He soothes his thumb in reassuring circles against Harry's skin. "The question is, what do you want to do about it?"

And that's the question Harry doesn't begin to know the answer to. He's got to fix it with Niall first, that's the one thing he does know, that he's got to make things right before he can think about anything else.

"Niall's not the kind of guy to hold this over you, if it isn't what he wants," Nick tells him quietly, which Harry knows and loves about Niall. That Niall is the last person to hold a grudge and the first to forgive.

Harry rolls to his front and presses his face to Nick's neck. It would be easier if, Harry's whole life would be easier, if he and Nick could just be like that. But there's never going to be anything between them but a really strong friendship.

Harry breathes in deep. “Thank you,” he mouths against the warmth of Nick’s skin. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he knows he doesn’t need to - Nick gets it.

Harry pulls back and gives Nick a bright smile - it’s his game face. “I better get back to mine,” he says. He hasn’t any clothes here and he can’t show up at the studio in what he wore last night or anything belonging to Nick - he would never hear the end of it.

“Come over later if you like,” Nick says as Harry climbs out of bed. “I’ll be around late.”

“Yeah, I might do,” Harry says absently, picking last night’s trousers up off the carpet and stepping into them. Harry swaps the t-shirt he slept in for his wrinkled shirt, finds his shoes shoved under the wardrobe and waves to Nick.

Harry’s fallen into the habit over the last year or so of looking for cameras everywhere he goes. There aren’t any lurking around this morning but it’s early enough and people haven’t quite seemed to catch on that Harry spends a lot of what little free time he has at Nick’s.

It’s just after seven, they have a studio call time of 8:30. Harry’s feeling fairly exhausted. At some point in the day it’s likely he’ll have to find a place to close his eyes.

Harry’s not surprised to find the flat is empty when he lets himself in. It’s not that Louis’s moved out - there’s proof of him everywhere from his signed Doncaster poster to the old pair of Toms sticking out from under the coffee table. It would almost be easier if Louis did just move out and take all reminders with him. This half sharing a flat makes Harry feel a loneliness he doesn’t quite understand and doesn’t like to think about.

He spends half an hour in the shower, standing under the spray as hot as his skin can stand, gazing off into space and trying not to think about much of anything. His skin's pink and sore by the time he turns the water off. That sense of dread that had been building in his gut has lessened and he feels a little more capable of facing the day ahead - of facing Niall.

He stands at the worktop in his empty, quiet kitchen and eats two slices of toast slathered with jam that may or may not be past its prime.

The studio is in an entirely different postcode to Harry's and it takes him twenty minutes and a few red lights to get there fifteen minutes late.

He cuts off the engine but finds he can't make himself get out of the car. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

There's a knock on the passenger side window and his eyes fly open, startled.

It's Niall.

"Alright?" Niall asks, leaning into the car. He looks sleepy, eyes all soft like he's only just woken up. He's a little hesitant maybe but there's nothing about him that suggests he's mad.

"Yeah," Harry nods, rubbing a palm at his cheek. "Didn't sleep much," he says. "But, actually, do you have a second?" He gestures to the passenger seat.

Niall nods and opens the door to climb in.

"I just wanted to make sure - are we okay?" Harry stumbles over the words. They don't come out at all how he intended.

But Niall just nods and gives Harry a little smile. He pauses like he's thinking over what he wants to say. "I'm sorry if - I was abrupt last night, I think," Niall begins slowly. He has this way of licking at his lips when he's not sure of what to say. "I wasn't mad - I'm _not_ mad, or anything, I just." His cheeks have gone pink, all splotchy and endearing in the way Niall's always just shown whatever he's feeling on his face. "I maybe was a bit overwhelmed."

Harry's eyes go wide before he can help it, surprise showing on his face. That doesn't sound like a negative reaction. The relief Harry's feeling is sudden and huge and he lets out the breath he's been holding since Niall knocked on the window.

"Okay," Harry says which doesn't feel like the right thing to say but it seems like enough because Niall's nodding. "Shall we go in?"

The others are already there, spread out around the studio when Harry and Niall show up.

"Right," Savan says, "let's get to it."

It's a long day. There's still a lot of decisions to be made about the songs they're going to record and who's going to sing what. Harry spends the time he's not in the booth, sprawled out on the sofa, half asleep.

"Harry," Niall says and Harry opens his eyes. Niall's sat himself at the edge of the sofa, hovering over Harry. "Sorry," he mumbles, "didn't want to wake you up, but me and Zayn are going to get some lunch. I can bring you back something if you like?"

Harry's been curled up on his side and he rolls to his back, careful not to nudge Niall to the floor. He stretches, his muscles protesting, lifting his arms up over his head.

He's aware of Niall watching him and it makes his skin go warm. Without really thinking about it he reaches for Niall, curling his fingers in his shirt and hauling him forward, mumbling, "c'mere, yeah?" He just wants a hug - Niall's always given the best hugs. Niall huffs a surprised laugh but lets Harry tug him down. Harry wraps both arms around Niall's shoulders and tucks his chin in against Niall's neck.

Niall holds himself tense for a split second like he doesn't know what to do and then he relaxes, molding himself against Harry and sighing against his skin. Niall's all warm and smells soapy and like something musky, a new cologne maybe.

"I like this," Harry whispers, "you smell nice."

It's not something you say to a mate, especially not something you say to a mate you were getting of with just hours ago but Niall just laughs and presses his palms against Harry's back. "New cologne," he huffs, and Harry can feel him smiling.

Harry hums. This is really, really good and he thinks if this is how things are going to be between them then he's more than okay with that. "It's good, I like it." Harry says, feeling the words rumble between them.

"Oy!" Zayn yells from the doorway. "Niall, you coming? I'm hungry."

Niall laughs again, and when Harry pulls away Niall's got this sheepish smile crinkling his eyes.

"Yeah, coming," he says to Zayn though he's looking down at Harry.

"Are you hungry?" Niall asks again, "what can we get you?"

Harry shrugs. He's not hungry now but he will be before they get another break. "Just bring me whatever," he says. Niall's absently playing with the hem of Harry's t-shirt. Harry curls his fingers around Niall's and squeezes. "See you in a bit, yeah?"

Niall nods and gets to his feet and maybe Harry's imagining it but he seems reluctant to go.

In the doorway, Zayn's leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed. His expression is neutral but there's something in his eyes that makes Harry a little uncomfortable. "Have fun without me," Harry says and rolls to his side.

It's after seven when they agree they've done enough for the day. Harry told Nick he'd come by but he's thinking now he'd like to have a pint with Niall and call it a night. He's exhausted and he could go to bed now and sleep through to morning.

"Want a lift?" Harry says to Niall, coming up behind him.

Niall looks surprised by the offer but he just shrugs. "Yeah, thanks."

Harry loves Niall's flat. He's filled it with the things he's collected over the last two years, a tribute to the places they've been, the people they've met, the things they've accomplished. It's comfortable and welcoming and Harry's taken to spending more time here lately, since Louis's gone more often than not and there's something about being here that makes Harry feel at home.

Harry follows Niall into the kitchen and leans against the worktop as Niall reaches into the fridge for two beers.

"Cheers," Harry says as he has a swig.

Niall leans against the fridge as he sips at his own and they're just sort of watching each other, unsure of what's supposed to happen now.

Harry realizes he should have asked Niall, this morning or at any time that followed, if last night was something they were going to repeat. He's okay if it doesn't happen again but nothing has changed. If anything, he just wants more.

Niall stands abruptly, mumbling, "see if there's a match on," and goes out into the living room.

Harry follows him.

Niall sits at one end of the sofa, thumbing through the channels. Harry smiles to himself because he can practically feel the nerves coming off Niall.

He sits down beside him, not too close but closer than if he'd chosen the other end of the sofa.

"Niall," Harry says. He sets his beer down on the coffee table. Niall's fidgeting, picking at his fingernails and steadfastly ignoring Harry.

Harry laughs. "Nialler," Harry says, pitching his voice low and teasing. Niall looks over then, scowling a little. It's funny and charming and Harry thinks, fuck it, Niall will stop him if it's not what he wants. He reaches over to take Niall's beer out of his hand and set it down beside his own.

He goes slowly, gives Niall the chance to stop him if that's what he wants. He curls his hand around Niall's neck and brings him forward. "We'll stop whenever you say," Harry promises, a low whisper against Niall's cheek before he adjusts the space between them and kisses Niall with parted lips.

Harry can taste the beer on Niall’s lips and he licks at them to get more, to feel the way Niall responds.

“Niall,” Harry says quietly, “stop looking at me like that.” He reaches for him and Niall goes willingly, lets Harry wrap an arm around his waist. Niall wraps his own arms around Harry’s back.

Niall's hesitation dissolves. It's not gradual - one minute he's all sweetly shy, hand hovering over Harry's shoulder - the next he's curling his fingers into Harry's arm and making these little needy noises as Harry pushes his tongue into Niall's mouth.

Harry grips the back of Niall's neck like his hand will hold Niall to him just in case Niall has any thoughts of pulling away. It’s not likely given the way Niall's full on kissing him now and doing it for Harry in a way usually reserved for something a little more adult than some snogging.

Harry feels like he’s traveled to some other universe where this is something he actually does with Niall - a mate who, until yesterday, was just that and nothing more. If he'd had his feet planted firmly on earth like he should have, he'd have thought twice before wrapping his arm around Niall's shoulders - all broad and muscular these days, wow - and taking him with him as he reclined back into the sofa.

Niall makes a huffed sound of surprise against Harry's lips as he finds himself suddenly, clumsily sprawled over Harry, legs trying to slot between Harry's as he holds himself up on one arm.

Harry can tell by the way Niall's holding himself that he's trying to keep some space between their bodies. Screw that. Harry slides his hand down Niall's back, wraps his arm around his narrow waist and hauls him down, hips pressed to hips.

"Yeah, that's better," Harry breathes, lips curved in a smile. The noise Niall makes sounds a lot like agreement. He opens his mouth immediately when Harry lifts his head up off the cushions to kiss him again, licking into his mouth and touching his tongue to Niall's. He slips his hand beneath Niall's top, fingers stroking along the skin at his hip, which Niall seems to like quite a lot if the way his teeth catch in Harry's lip is any indication.

Harry's blood boils hot at that. He likes that a lot, Niall's teeth at his mouth. Whatever brain cells Harry has left band together to inform him that this is getting out of hand fairly quickly and maybe they should stop. But Harry's cock has gone hard in a matter of minutes, _really_ hard and right now it seems to think it's in charge and it really likes the way Niall feels, and the way Niall's rocking against Harry like he can't help it.

Harry's overheated and breathing hard and he thinks now would be a good time to put a stop to this before he embarrasses himself thoroughly and comes in his trousers with nothing more than a little harmless humping.

But before he can put a stop to it, Niall grows bolder and decides to take what he wants and right now what he wants is to apparently suck on Harry's tongue. Harry really likes that, especially the way Niall's going at it and getting off on it, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair and clinging to him.

"Oh, shit," Niall says suddenly, tearing away and scrambling to his knees. Harry's eyes fly open and he watches Niall hold himself stock still, hand gripping the back of the sofa all white knuckled. Niall's got his eyes squeezed shut and he's breathing shallowly and Harry's been in a similar position once or twice. That's the all too familiar look of a guy who's trying his hardest not to come.

And hell, if that's not one of the sexiest things Harry's ever seen.

Harry folds a hand beneath his neck and openly, unabashedly watches Niall. "Alright there Niall?" he teases. Niall doesn't open his eyes. "Fuck off," he grunts and it's breathless, panting.

He's all flushed and sweaty and really, really beautiful. Harry wants to strip him down and make him fall apart, watch him come.

Harry reaches out and grips Niall's hip, stroking at the strip of skin where Niall's t-shirt's rucked up.

Niall does open his eyes then, looking down at Harry. "That's not nice," he says softly, but he doesn't push Harry's hand away.

Niall's eyes are darker than Harry's ever seen them and the knowledge that this is what Niall looks like when he's turned on makes the heat spark low in Harry's gut.

Niall lets out a big breath and moves to lie beside Harry, pressing himself into the nonexistent space between Harry and the back of the couch. Harry hums. It feels nice, Niall's overheated body against his.

He shifts his arm out from beneath his head to make it more comfortable and reaches between them to curl his fingers around Niall's wrist. He strokes his thumb over Niall's skin in what he means to be reassuring.

Niall turns his head to give Harry a scrutinizing look.

"Harry," he mumbles, "what are we doing?"

It's a bloody good question and the honest answer is, Harry has no fucking clue.

He shrugs. "I dunno," he says quietly. "Do you want to stop?" It's a broad question. He's not referring to the now but to later, tomorrow and the days after that.

Niall doesn't say anything, just shakes his head after a beat like he had to give it some thought.

Okay, Harry can work with that.

Harry thinks he should get up and go back to his but he's comfortable here. He shifts to his side, pressed up against Niall, head on the pillow. He closes his eyes and listens to the breaths Niall takes, the way his heart rate begins to slow.

Maybe falling asleep here with Niall is not the best idea but Harry can't bring himself to get up and go to his.

It's pleasant here, the press of Niall against him, the comfort of being with someone he knows inside and out. Eventually, Harry does let himself relax enough to fall asleep, not long after he feels Niall do the same.


End file.
